You Don't Know Me
by GlamFolk
Summary: After years of suffering for being Ned Stark's daughter, all Sansa wants is to be anonymous. But first she needs to get that handsome smith in the village to fix her necklace.
1. Chapter 1

For five years Sansa had dreamed of returning to the North, but now that she had returned, it was the last place she wanted to be.

Robb was gone, and with the seven way split of the seven kingdoms, the North wanted the second Stark child, regardless of gender. Bran was only 15, and had never been comfortable being in a position of power, whereas Rickon was only nine, and his years with Osha had made him only more wild. Ayra...no one knew where Arya was. They never spoke of her.

She had come into the castle at nightfall, personally escorted by Jon and the rest of the Kingsguard. Most of the journey, she had been asleep, taking advantage of every ounce of Milk of the Poppy that Jon's Maester- Sam, she thinks his name was- would give her.

"Burns heal, m'lady," he said. "It's just a painful process."

Sansa hated when she had to change the bandages. The scorch marks on her stomach and right thigh had healed, but the last thing, Sam had warned her, was an infection. The night she came home, she wished the Queen's dragons had just finished her off. As soon as they had reached the castle, she had asked to be put to bed. Sam carried her up the stairs as Jon held open doors, with Summer following at their heels. The castle had been asleep when she returned, anyway, and she didn't want any grand celebration, welcoming her back home.

_I want to be no one, again_ she thought as she fiddled with her cropped hair in the mirror. _Why did they have to cut my hair._

She dreamt of it that night. The night the Lannister guards held her down and cut her long, red hair off with a dirty dagger. "The last thing we need is Jon Snow's army knowing we have is cousin," Mace Tyrell said. "Best make her as unrecognizable as possible."

So they had. Uneven tufts of Sansa's hair stuck out from her bruised skull. Her busted lip was almost done healing, and the darkness from under her eyes was even receding. Still, as soon as she had gotten into her old room, she took the nearest candle stick and shattered the mirror. She ran to the secret compartment behind the bed, yanked out all her favorite old stories of knights, maidens, monsters- she tore them to pieces. Good men, good women, even good monsters - they didn't exist. Sansa didn't know if they ever did. All she knew was that it had been this filth that had made her believe she was going to be a queen, that courtesy and grace could save you, and that you could trust anyone but yourself.

They hadn't raped her, but they had done everything but. "As long as you don't take her maidenhead," Mace said. So they had. Her breasts had bruised from where they were groped and bitten. Her mouth was violated, she was made to be nude at almost all times. She had heard Sam whisper to Jon during the ride up that it was a miracle that she hadn't gotten a disease from the men. Miracle.

She wouldn't leave her bed for three days. All the better, she thought. They wouldn't recognize her, her adoring public. Bran had come by, as had Rickon. Where Bran didn't know how to care for her, Rickon had climbed into her bed, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I missed you, Sansan," he said, nuzzling into her stomach. It hurt the burn, but she didn't mind. Jon had come to see her, before he returned to his lady wife back home.

"She didn't mean for it to happen," Jon said. "She didn't know it was you, coming in from the dark like you did."

"I don't blame her," Sansa said, sitting up in bed. Jon watched her face, waiting for any sign that she was lying. She wasn't.

"She sent me three raven just this week, asking me to ask all your pardons."

"Dragons are dragons," Sansa sighed. "Even their mother can't control them when they're adults."

Jon smiled down at her- this sister he had barely known and was now more than ever a stranger to him.

"Queen Margery has sent you some of her finest dresses," he said, breaking the silence. "An apology, I assume, for her father's behavior."

"Send them back," Sansa said.

"I don't think that's the most becoming foreign policy-"

"Send them back." She said, raising her voice and looking at Jon with all the ferocity of her younger sister.

"...As the Queen commands," he said. Carefully, he leaned down and put a kiss on Sansa's forehead. "I'll write to you," he promised, turning to walk to the door. Sansa fell back onto her bed, and stared up at the ceiling she had so remembered when she was a child.

_I used to pretend that my husband would be enchanted by a witch, made stone until his true love's first kiss_ she thought. Angrily, she turned onto her side. _What a stupid girl. _She closed her eyes.

Two weeks later she felt strong enough to walk, and pulled on a simple linen dress to go downstairs. As she was clasping the necklace Bran had given her - "It belonged to our Lady Mother, I was able to smuggle it out"- it came apart in her hand. The chain had given.

"I need a smith," she announced at breakfast. Bran and Rickon looked up from their food, and Maester Erwin, the Summer Islander than Jon had found for her, spoke up.

"I don't know if that the best idea, your wounds are still fresh,"

"I'd had my share of being confined," she snapped back. Master Erwin held his tongue.

"There's a smith in the village an hour's ride from here," Bran said. "Quite good, if Jojen is to be believed."

Jojen, her 'hand'. The North was being run by broken children.

"Allow me to accompany you, your grace," Meera spoke up.

"No," Sansa said. "I'll go alone,"

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Bran said. "What if you're recognized?"

"No one will recognize me like this," she pointed to her hair.

"They will have to see their queen sometime-"

"And today is not that day," she paused for a moment. "Please, Bran. Let me be anonymous again. If only for a day,"

Bran exchanged looks wit Osha, who had long since finished her bowl.

"You should cover your hair in soot," she said. "As an extra precaution. Do you know how to use a dagger?"

Sansa nodded. Jon had showed her, the day before he returned home. "Bows and arrows, some, too."

"Let her go, little lord," Osha said.

After covering her hair in soot, Sansa mounted what Bran assured her was 'the fastest horse', and begun for the village. She had changed into men's breeches, and had an old, worn cloak around her. The ride was long, but it was peaceful. She had almost forgotten the effect of silence on a restless mind. She still panicked, though, when she heard horses approaching from behind, but often they were just farmers or small boys racing. She saw a girl on one of the horses, and thought of Arya.

_I'm sorry,_ she thought. _I'm sorry I was so cruel to you._

When she reached the village, she asked one of the men where the smith's shop was. He pointed to a building not far down the road, and she rode her horse down the way. After hitching him to the post, she went up to the table, and tried to get the attention of the young man hammering away at some metal.

"Pardon," she said, but quickly corrected herself. Low-born girls don't have manners.

"HEY!" she barked, and he stopped. He was muscular, and stood atleast half a head taller than her. His dark hair fell in his eyes, and curls sprung from his chest and trailed all the way to above his breeches. For the first time in years, Sansa felt her stomach bloom with the warmth she used to feel when Jofferey looked at her.

"What you want?" he asked, walking over to her still clutching his hammer. His stubble was dark like his hair, and Sansa had to remind herself to look at him in the eyes. She fished out the necklace.

"Can you fix this?" she asked. He reached out and his coarse hands touched her palm.

"Don't really do jewelry," he said, inspecting it. "But the break is clean enough. Where'd you get this?"

"What you mean?" Sansa tried to mirror his speech. She may no longer be pretty, but she was still smart. Aya had her sword, Sansa had her intelligence, and it had saved her so far.

"I mean, what' some one like you doing with a fine piece like this,"

_Say you found it. Stole it. Won it in a game of cards._

"Won it,"she said. "Drank some Braavosi under the table."

"Hmpf," he looked back down at it, before turning back to her. "I'm making some armor for Queen Sansa's Queensguard. Should be finished in a fortnight. Come back then, and we can discuss price. Whats your name?"

Sansa hesitated. _Not Sansa. Not Alayne. Not Cat._

"Eryn." she almost barked. "Eryn Snow."

He considered her for a second, before pocketing the necklace.

"Right. Have it to you in a fortnight," he was about to turn back to the forge before she spoke up.

"And you?" she said, hoping it didn't sound as eager as she thought.

He looked up from his anvil. "Gendry," he replied. Then brought his hammer down.


	2. Chapter 2

For the next week, Sansa tried to avoid going anywhere that wasn't her room or the Godswood. She was trying everyone's patience, she knew that- but the last thing she wanted to do was take on any responsibility, let alone make a public appearance. Osha had come to her one night, and helped shape her hair into something much less uneven. Still, it looked like a boy's hair cut.

"Brings out your eyes," Osha said.

Sansa turned to look at her, and away from the mirror that hung in her room. "Did Bran or Jojen ask you to talk to me?"

"They want you to come to the small council tomorrow afternoon," she said, matter oh factly. "They don't really understand, do they?"

"Tell them I'll come," Sansa said. Truth be told she had felt a little guilty for letting them run the country while she was recovering, but all she wanted to do was stay in bed.

Osha ran her fingers through Sansa's hair. "It looks good on you, if it's any consolation."

For the first time in months, Sansa smiled.

"Dorne wishes to establish trade," Jojen said the next night. "Spices for lumber."

"Transportation costs would be outrageous," Bran sighed.

"Dorne has not begun trading with anyone in the Seven Kingdoms since the split. The ships may cost more, but we could resell the spices at a higher price to our neighbors," Sansa countered. "Tell them we'll agree."

Jojen nodded and made a note on the parchment. "That brings us to another matter,"

"Maybe not tonight," Bran said cautiously.

"What?" Sansa looked up at her brother, whose eyes were unsure.

"Honestly, Sansa, it can wait-"

"Tell me,"

"Five ravens have come just today asking for your Grace's marriage expectations." Jojen interrupted. "Harold from the Vale, Willas Tyrell...Stannis has even offered the hand of his legitimized heir, Edric."

"No," Sansa spat. "The Tyrells insult me with their offer, as if banishing their father could ever make up for their slight against us. Harold was an insufferable cock during my time in the Vale, and I will not give the North to Stannis Baratheon."

Bran flinched when she said 'cock', unaccustomed to hearing his once chivalrous sister speak.

"We don't have to discuss the matter now-" Meera started.

"We don't have to discuss the matter _ever._" Sansa countered. "Dorne is ruled by a woman, why the North should be any different is beyond me. These men make offers because they believe that I'll step down. I will not. Winterfell will never belong to anyone but a Stark ever again."

"Sansa, you're being irrational," Bran complained.

"I don't wish to discuss the matter any further," Sansa huffed. "Are we done?"

"...We're done," Meera sighed, collecting the parchment in front of her.

"Good," Sansa said, and stood to leave.

She changed into her riding gear as soon as she got to her room. She reached into the fireplace and brought a handful of ashes to her head, and coated her hair until it was black as night. Careful to avoid anyone, she crept through the castle quietly, ducking into any nook and cranny when she heard someone come. Once in the stables, she found her horse and quickly departed.

_Stupid Bran._ she thought, as soon as she was thirty minutes into her ride. _Stupid Jojen, stupid Meera, stupid me. _She felt a tear begin to roll down her cheek, and went to wipe it away with suck force that her nail cut her cheek.

_Don't cry. You big baby, don't fucking cry._ It was too late. Water ran from her cheeks down onto her saddle, and she felt her throat tighten. She saw the faces of the men who had used her, round, red, fat and laughing. Their grotesque mouths telling her was a pretty girl she was and how she could put those big lips of hers to use. Their dirty fingers pinching her nipples until she screamed. Rough blades ripping through her shifts and pointed at the small of her back until she would allow herself to be paraded through the camp, naked.

_If Highgarden wants an alliance with the North, I'll see all those men hanged._ she thought, spurring her horse to trot faster. _They will never have my tears again. _

When she came to the village, she immediately went to the smith. He was there again, Gendry, still as dirty as ever. She shouldn't have felt her stomach flip whenever he looked up at her, but she did.

"Thought I told you a fortnight," he said, putting down the sword he was inspecting.

"Thought maybe you had gotten a chance to finish it," she answered. He put down the sword and went to the work bench, and pulled a drawer out.

"You're lucky its been a slow week," he said, and walked over to her. Sansa cupped her hands as he dropped the necklace into her palm. She held it up to inspect where it had been broken. Nothing. She quickly put the necklace over her head and reached into her pocket.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it," he countered, reaching for his shirt. "You caught me in a good mood,"

_Don't take his charity._ she thought _Don't take anyone's charity. Never again._

"I insist," she said, watching his pull the shirt over his body. _Gods preserve me._

"It's fine," he huffed. "If you'll excuse me, I'm closing."

Sansa racked her brains.

"How about a drink then?" she asked without thinking.

He looked up at her and sighed.

"Where do you live?" he asked, taking a sip of the pint. They were seated outside of a loud tavern, listening to the faint sound of music from within.

"I work in Winterfell," she said. _Yes, good. _"In the kitchens."

"Must be nice," he said, putting his pint down. "You don't seem like the type,"

"What's my type?"

"I dunno. Not a maid, not a stable girl." His deep blue eyes considered her. "You probably are going to end up taking care of the little prince and princesses that are sure to come,"

Sansa's nose wrinkled. "I don't think that'll happen any time soon,"

"The Queen isn't already brokered into some marriage? Or pregnant from her time with Mace Tyrell?"

_Don't cry. Don't break._

"Not that we've heard. Maybe she'll take a lover," she finished her drink.

"You really did drink a Braavosi under the table," Gendry laughed. "Third pint, that."

_I just don't want to feel anything._

"What about you," she asked. "How'd you get here?"

He sighed, and fiddled with the handle of his drink. "I was working at an inn, with all these little kids running around. War put an end to that. Lannisters, Iron Islanders- someone torched it. I came North to get away from the war, found a work here. Lord Stark sent word to me, asking me to make armor for the Queensguard. How'd you end up at the castle?"

_What's left of it. What Ramsay didn't burn._

"Mother used to work for the Starks. Grew up in a village not far. Queen Sansa remembered my mother and offered me a job,"

"Nice of her," he looked down at his drink.

_My heads all floaty. He's so lovely. _

"She's nice," she said. "And clever."

Gendry looked up at the sky. "It's late, I should be getting back,"

Sansa felt sad, all the sudden. "Alright,"

"You riding back to the castle tonight?"

"Not really another option,"

"I have a friend who works at the Inn, I could probably get you a night there, if you wish."

"It's fine-"

"Riding back alone isn't safe," he said. "Please. I'd sleep better."

_What would Eryn say. What would Eryn say._

"I've never trusted Inns. Father was an Innkeep-raped my mother during her stay."

Gendry didn't miss a beat.

"I've got an extra room, by the shop." he said. Before she could respond he finished "No funny business. Just a place for you to sleep."

Sansa paused, weighing her options. Bran must be going out of his mind, wondering where she was. Then again, it was customary for her lock herself in her room all day, and no one had seen her leave. Plus, worse things could happen if she was caught, traveling alone at night. The end of the war had made things safe, but evil is never truly gone from men's hearts.

"Alright," she said. "No funny business."

They paid for their drinks and began walking back, silent at first, and Sansa was getting used to the sound of their feet falling in and out of rhythmic sync when he spoke up.

"I heard the Queen's beautiful,"

"I heard she's supposed to be beautiful," she shrugged. They arrived at the smith and he turned to face her. "If you like her _type_," Sansa joked.

"What type is that?"

"Rich. Dreamy. Still thinks the world is a song," she lied.

"That's admirable, after all that's happened to her, I suppose."

"Going to ride up the gates and ask for her hand?"

He laughed. "No, I think I prefer your type," he said, meeting her eyes.

For the first time that night, Sansa was speechless.

"What...what type is that?"

"Funny. Clever. Stubborn." he took a step closer to her. "You still want to pay me for your necklace?"

Sansa couldn't think. She couldn't speak. Her mind was racing and she wished to all those above she hadn't drank as much as she did.

"Yes," she breathed.

Two rough fingers found their way to her chin and tilted her face towards his. Slowly, he pressed his lips to hers.

_He's so warm. He tastes like mead. My chest is on fire. Gods be good. _

He broke away then, leaving her in a daze.

"Forgive me, I know I said nothing funny. I meant it. I-" Sansa stopped him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his face back down to hers. She felt his hands graze down to her lower back, pulling her closer to him as the kiss deepened. Quickly, he pushed back into the door leading to his rooms, and Sansa kicked the door behind her closed. She pulled his shirt open, feeling the laces slide beneath her fingers as she ran her nails through his chest hair. He groaned. She felt his hand at the bottom hem of her shirt, his calloused fingers running up the side that wasn't scarred. Sansa hummed as he moved his mouth down to her neck, kissing and sucking at the skin there.

_He's so kind. So good at this._

She felt his hand touch her breast, and froze.

_Such pretty teats for a girl? They know how to breed them in the north, they laughed. She struggled against their holds as the leader of the group ran his dirty fingers all over her, then bent down to take her into his mouth. Shame they won't let us fuck you he said. I heard they like bastards in the north._

Sansa pushed him away, and he fell onto the bed behind him, shocked. Before he could say anything, she realized what she had done.

"Oh...no. Shit. I'm- I'm sorry."

"No, it's-it's me," he stood back up, lacing his shirt closed. He was embarrassed. "I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have."

"Gendry-"

"You can have this bed," he said, brushing past her. "I'll take the one in there,"

"Gendry." She said, aching for him to look back at her.

He turned around in the doorway, before speaking.

"Sweet dreams, Eryn."

He disappeared into the dark of the other room. Sansa sunk down onto the bed, and wanted to cry.

_I had to fuck it up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _

She fell asleep with tears on her face.

When she woke up, it was still night. She lifted her head from the pillow, unaware of where she was for the moment.

_Oh. Right._

She looked over to the doorway to the room. Without meaning to, she started walking towards it. It was almost like something had possessed her to do it, and against her judgement she was standing over the sleeping blacksmith.

She pulled her shirt over her head and felt the cool air against her chest. Her nipples pebbled and her flesh pricked. Silently, she sat on the bed- much less comfortable than the other- and took his arm around her.

"Mmmpf?" he asked. She turned to face him.

"What-what are you doing?" he awoke.

"I was lonely," she said.

"Eryn,"

"Sssh." She pressed a kiss to his lips, then nestled into the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry. I haven't had the best experience with men."

He sighed, and then pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I wouldn't hurt you," he said.

"I know."

With that, she fell asleep, listening to his heart beat like a lullaby.


End file.
